


Summer-Drunk

by kingfishling



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Car Accidents, Daytona Beach, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Longing, M/M, Major Character Injury, Mental Health Issues, Motorcycle Accidents, Motorcycle Festival, My first zine entry!, Pittsburgh, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, References to Depression, Romance, Suicidal Thoughts, Summer Heat :), Un-Licensed Driving, Zine: Namida, beach, dangerous driving, its not that dark i swear, oooh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-06-02 09:03:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19438255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingfishling/pseuds/kingfishling
Summary: Victor is running from responsibility. Yuuri is hiding from the world. They find themselves and each other amid the crumbling buildings and the ever-pushing sea of Daytona. Welcome to the First Annual Daytona Motorbike Festival!Written for Namida: The Yuuri on Ice Angst Zine. All proceeds go to The Trevor Project! https://www.thetrevorproject.org/





	Summer-Drunk

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Namida: A Yuri on Ice Angst Zine.

The ground was dry and baked. Shimmering waves of heat made the sky dance, filled throat and tongue with the taste of gasoline and ocean air. The sun shone bright overhead amid a pale blue and cloudless sky, just as empty and abandoned as the little crumbling inn Yuuri called home. It reflected off the shining clean windows, the little wind-chimes his mother had bought and hung above the door. Only one guest was staying currently, and they were across the road, drinking themself into a stupor at Minako’s bar, so Yuuri had time to spare. As he dusted, he watched the empty streets for signs of potential customers. As always, there was no one but his sister Mari outside, tending to the plants. Most of the customers stayed further away from Daytona Beach, at the chain hotels, leaving this little corner of the world empty.

While Yuuri was glad for the quiet, it was only a reminder of how precarious his little world had become. He had been born and raised in this small dusty area, and to watch it crumble due to just a few big hotels made his blood boil. Of course, there was little he could do besides trying to make life easier for his parents by helping around the inn, keeping it clean and managing the few customers they received every year. He was content living his life in this little warm bubble, watching the dust float through the air and the plants blow in the ocean breeze. His sister, however, was the exact opposite.

Mari had always been a little too big and brash for their small slice of paradise. Right from his earliest memories, she had followed Minako around like a little dog, begging to accompany her on her weekly trips to the main part of town on Minako’s bright pink motorcycle. Of course, their parents had never let Mari anywhere near that metal death trap, but Yuuri wouldn’t be surprised if she had somehow snuck a ride once or twice. Even now, Mari was the one to handle anything outside of Florida. Yuuri had barely ever even left Daytona. The one time he’d even gotten on a bike, well. That hadn’t gone too well. So instead he waved goodbye to her every time she backed their rusty pickup truck out of the driveway and down the road.

Yuuri could barely suppress a grin at the thought that soon Mari wouldn’t have to drive that clunker. Today was her birthday, and their family had finally decided she was responsible enough for her own motorcycle. She had lusted after Minako’s for long enough that his father had even often joked about her stealing it and skipping town. Now though, she would have her own shiny red motorcycle to drive away on. Though the thought of her leaving them behind made his chest ache, he had to admit that he was happy for his sister. So, setting aside his duster, he checked the time and went out to inform his sister that her present was ready.

* * *

Later that evening as Minako cracked open another wine bottle in their dining room to commemorate the new biker, Yuuri found himself sandwiched between his increasingly drunk father and his cool, collected sister as his mind drifted to that first and only trip with Minako on her bike. He had been 6 years old, and Mari had been grounded for some reason or another and ended up being stuck doing the chores Yuuri usually did. So with nothing to do on a weekend, he had snuck over to Minako’s bar. It was closed, but inside, the tacky Christmas lights and St. Pauli Girl sign were still brightly lit, and Minako was humming as she cleaned and put away the last few glasses. Across the street, lights and light music filtered out into the cool night air as his parents handled the hordes of summer-drunk customers.

He had tiptoed quietly up to the counter and stood there until Minako had turned with her ever-knowing smile and bent over to say, “It's a bit late to be out, shouldn’t you go to bed now?” The much younger and foolish Minako hadn’t called Yuuri’s parents, merely sat him on her lap and asked what he wanted to do. Little Yuuri had pointed nervously out of the window, where her bike stood, gleaming in the dim light. 

“You want to go for a ride?” Yuuri had nodded and Minako had pretended to consider it, before laughing and agreeing. She had locked up the shop quickly and pasted a sticky note with the words _‘OUT WITH YUURI, BE BACK IN TEN ’_ hastily scrawled across it to the door, before scooping him up and plopping a too-big helmet on his head. Seating him in front of her, she had eased out slowly from the parking lot, pulling into the still-busy road and taking off. The lights from the few businesses still open had gleamed against the sea, warm and bright. The wind had rushed above and around him, chilling him to the bone, the only warmth a spot trapped between his and Minako’s bodies. The engine had hummed and the honking of cars had been like chaotic, cacophonous music and Yuuri had felt free.

Until the semi had come from the right.

Minako had swerved suddenly and skidded into a ditch, and Yuuri had fallen from the bike, sprawled in the scratchy, dry grass, scraped up and bruised, but miraculously alive.

He was brought back to the present by Minako shaking him violently across the table. He turned to face the older woman, getting a faceful of hot breath as she yelled, “We should start a motorcycle festival!” Beside him, Mari agreed, and they toasted to the idea before flopping on Yuuri to bully him some more.

* * *

“Wait, you were serious?” Yuuri shouldn’t be surprised, rarely has Minako ever suggested something she didn’t follow up on, not even while drunk, but somehow he was still taken aback by the suggestion. Mari nodded, shuffling her helmet in her arms. “It’s a good idea! Minako can get her old biker friends to spread the word! It’ll be a week of fun in Daytona, down here by the shore!”

Minako slid up next to him and squeezed his shoulders to her. “Just imagine, Yuuri! It could draw so many people! A full bar and a full inn, and all for the love of biking!” Just as he opened his mouth to speak, his father interjected, “It sounds great! If you think we can pull it off, I have no problem! Anything to boost business.”

Yuuri wanted to argue, but held his tongue and thought about it. If he’d learnt anything about bikers, it’s that they love “roughing it”. And these days, any non-chain hotel was pretty much the definition of that. If they could hold this event successfully, they might be able to save his home. Biting his tongue, he faced his family, who were watching him hesitantly, and nodded. Mari grinned at him and he knew he’d made the right decision. It was time to face his fears. It was time to hold the First Annual Daytona Motorbike Festival. Everything would be fine.

* * *

Everything was not fine. Viktor ripped his helmet off his head and took a steamy breath of cold air as he looked out over the glittering city before him. The leaves on the tree behind him rustled in the cool breeze and his hair floated with it, tangling in midair as he stood on his hill. Pittsburgh spread out around him, still awake despite the late hour. Viktor calmed himself as he watched the cars zoom through the winding, hilly roads. Beside him, his silver bike leaned against the tree, reflecting traffic lights back out in the darkness. It was cold, but not snowy yet. The chill was good. It froze his boiling blood, bringing him down from his state of agitation.

Yakov had always been gruff and strict in a loving way. Viktor knew he meant the best for him, he really did. But sometimes he just needed space. The endless questions of _“Why are you never home? Where do you go all day? Just get a job! What will Yuri do when I’m dead?”_ could only bear so much repeating before the yelling started. Viktor couldn’t help the cold he felt inside, the sheer numbness clouding his mind and chest. He tried to find jobs, tried to help out, tried to be there and happy, but trying could only help for so long. So he escaped instead, zoomed off on the only thing that made him feel anymore— his bike. He’d bike up here and look out over the city and dream of a future where he could be happy. Or dead. Either was ok.

Viktor sighed and turned back to his bike, walking it slowly over to the curb to hop back onto the road and back home to where his family was expecting him. As he did so, a bright orange flyer caught his attention, pinned to a street pole. _“The First Annual Daytona Motorbike Festival”_ jumped out at him immediately. Below were a few details: dates, times, events, and a phone number to call for more information. A week in Florida sounded… nice. A welcome escape from the chill that had been pervading the air and his chest for the last month. Maybe he’d finally feel warm again. He looked around, and then pulled the flyer down, folding it neatly and stuffing it in his pocket before hoisting a leg over his bike and starting the engine, driving off towards the cluster of lights in the distance.

* * *

Firelight cast shining reflections over the sea, the warm orange light emanating from the bonfire spreading to the sea and catching in the tips of the tide. The stars were barely visible past the smoke drifting up and the embers floating through the air to settle and die on the sand. The sounds of night birds and traffic from afar were barely audible, covered over by the sounds of laughter and stomping. 

Viktor looked around at the party that was currently taking up the beach. All around him people were chatting, laughing, exchanging stories and even dancing with abandon, large wife-beater clad men grabbing partners and spinning them around in a drunken haze. Tomorrow would be a bright and sunny day, perfect for the flea market and bike show planned. But today, they made merry around the bonfire. Viktor was content to sit in front of the flames, the heat a welcome relief from the cool air that had fallen over the usually cloyingly warm town.

Viktor’s bike sat back in the parking lot of the Akatsuki Yuutopia, charmingly designed like a Japanese inn, but undoubtedly Floridian in the way the stucco walls crumbled under the burden of age and time. As Viktor sat in front of the bonfire and nursed his beer, two old ladies beside him wearing “Born to Bike!” t-shirts giggled and exchanged knowing glances when he tucked a stray hair behind his ear. Feeling suddenly out of place, he got up to get another beer, turning around so fast he almost knocked over a young man carrying a tray of food. He reached out a hand to steady him and found himself staring at a pair of wide brown eyes, reflecting the fire behind him. Red and orange flames danced in those eyes, framed by thick black lashes. His cheeks were soft with boyhood, his nose smooth and small and his lips wet and bitten through, dented blue frames balanced precariously on his nose.

Viktor realized he’d been holding onto the stranger for a bit too long and hastily let go, apologizing as the two old ladies behind him tittered. He moved out of his way and watched as the young man hurried past, dropping the platter at a table and turning, only to trip suddenly and faceplant in the sand. _Cute._

As the man picked himself up, Viktor shook off the daze he’d been in and stepped over to him to offer a hand. The man squeaked and took his hand, standing up. Viktor flashed his most charming smile and said, “You ok?” The little nod that followed only made Victor’s heart squeeze more. _Cute, cute, cute._ The man dusted off his shirt, smiling back at Viktor, and introduced himself as Yuuri. Viktor said his name once, then twice, and had to stop himself from grinning ridiculously when Yuuri looked a bit flustered.

“I’m Viktor. It’s nice to meet you, Yuu~ri.” Viktor invited him to chat, and Yuuri accepted quietly, making eye contact with the tall lady with the pink bike named Minako. She raised an eyebrow at him, and then looked over at Viktor, raking her eyes up and down. Turning back, she offered a thumbs up, flustering Yuuri enough to drop the beer he’d just picked up from the ice bucket. Viktor laughed, “How do you know her?” Yuuri sighed, “She runs the bar across from my parent’s inn…”

“Oh! Akatsuki Yuutopia! I love the architecture.” Yuuri giggled into his beer, “Yeah, my parents immigrated here from Japan and renovated the building to look Japanese… But I’ve never left Florida.” Yuuri looked a bit sad, so he dropped it. “Do you ride?” He couldn’t have chosen a worse subject. Yuuri went paler and shook his head, “No, but my sister and Minako do...“ Viktor decided not to press, and Yuuri seemed grateful for that as they moved on.

Viktor had never felt so at ease chatting with another person. Under the influence of Yuuri’s warm glowing eyes, he’d dropped any facade he’d had and just talked. He told Yuuri about his younger brother, named almost identically and about how he’d throw a fit if he knew they shared names. Yuuri, in turn, had divulged secrets about his sister’s prep phase in high school, how she’d gotten up at 4 am once to apply makeup before school, and how it had all ended with bright blue hair, three piercings and a promise to never again, _“...Be so fake-perfect, ugh Yuuri it was so gross.”_ Yuuri imitated her voice a little too loudly and from across the grill, Viktor saw a tall woman with bleached hair and piercings turn to narrow her eyes at Yuuri.

Yuuri somehow made every conversation interesting, and even though Viktor felt his throat going hoarse he almost wished the night would never end. Eventually, though, the bonfire burnt out and the bikers stumbled back in the dim streetlights to their hotel beds. Viktor offered to walk with Yuuri back to the inn but before he could reply, Mari called him and he waved goodbye, following his sister dutifully across the beach. Viktor considered joining but shook himself out of it. It would be rude to impose his presence on an acquaintance's family, regardless of how well they’d connected.

So Viktor walked back to the inn in the dark, feeling an odd emptiness at the quiet for the first time that night.

* * *

8 pm the next day came quickly, leaving pink streaks in the still dusky blue sky. Golden clouds floated through the horizon, a perfect sunset. Afar, in the hustle and bustle of the bike show, men and women cheered at the parade of stylish and strange bikes that had gathered from around the country on the beach. From where Viktor sat, however, they were muted by the empty rush of the sea and the faint whistle of the wind, pushing the clouds around their blue ceiling. His hair flapped in the wind and so did his jacket. He had put on eyeliner and silver earrings, anything he had to do to keep Yuuri’s attention on him.

Closing his eyes for a second, Viktor listened to the rush of the world. It was like he was in the eye of the storm: the cold breeze despite the warm, sinking sun, the water in front of him bathed in gold and pink, burnt into his mind even with his eyes closed. If he jumped in, it might even feel warm, like melting into a warm bath. His brief moment of consideration was broken by the swish of sand, a sudden warmth pressing at his side as Yuuri settled onto the damp sand. He opened his eyes and found himself faced with wind-ruffled hair, sunkissed skin, as Yuuri looked at him with wonder, opening his mouth.

“I… didn’t expect you to actually come..,” Yuuri admitted, flushing, his skin mirroring the gold and pink heavens above. He looked away for a second, tucking his hands against his chest and pressing them tighter against his knees. “I mean, we just met… ” A frown now marred his face, seeming to regret that. Viktor resisted the urge to brush the wrinkle between his eyebrows and settled for smiling at him, the heart-shaped twist of his lips coming easily.

“I really like you, Yuuri.” 

Yuuri didn’t reply, turning to study Viktor’s face. Viktor held his smile, hoping to calm him, but Yuuri’s frown only deepened. Viktor switched tactics. “What do you want me to be to you? A friend? A lover? A… stranger?” He would play any role for him, as long as it made Yuuri happy. But the last one… He wasn’t sure if his heart could handle it. Something about Yuuri made his heart thump against his chest as he waited for a response.

“Just be Viktor.” The words dropped, blunt, honest, from Yuuri’s mouth as he reached out to touch a silver earring lightly. “You don’t have to impress me or play a role. Last night… that was just you, wasn’t it?” He tucked a strand of hair behind Viktor’s ear, and murmured, “Let’s just be Viktor and Yuuri? I like that the best.” 

Viktor’s mouth opened and closed, and he was almost certain his ears were burning. In one conversation, Yuuri had shattered all of his plans. What was he supposed to do now?

The beach was oddly quiet, the sun having set behind the sea, leaving the dark waves and dark skies to slowly blend into one. Yuuri’s face was hard to see, his eyes warm and dim without the light. They stared at each other for a few moments, lingering on the edge of this new relationship. Viktor had nothing left but himself. And it was the freest he had ever felt. Nothing to prove, nothing to gain, just Viktor. Viktor and Yuuri. It sounded good. It sounded right. It sounded like a promise. Viktor’s eyes flicked down to his lips. A warm pink against his tan skin, bowed and open, chapped and bitten, perfect for kissing. Yuuri suddenly jumped.

“T-that is if you want that! You don’t have to! Don’t feel obliged, I know I’m not much and I know almost nothing about dating and— Oh! We don’t even have to date! Or know each other! If that’s what you want!” Yuuri bounced up and down, arms waving in a panic. Despite the ruined moment, Viktor laughed. Yuuri stared for a second, and when Viktor kept laughing, he cracked a smile alongside him, still looking unsure. With a grasp of a placating hand, Yuuri was pulled to his feet, and Viktor was grinning, a real one this time, that split his face wide in the silliest way.

“If it's not too much trouble, I’d like to be Viktor and Yuuri, too.” Yuuri’s answering expression was the only reason he needed to pull him towards the road. “Now come on! I heard there’s a good bar somewhere around here.” This time, he wasn’t walking back alone.

* * *

The street was dark, the streetlamps casting yellow puddles of light on the ground. The air was almost warm, making the hairs on Yuuri’s arm stand up slightly, sending a little shiver down his spine. Five days into the bike festival and he and Viktor had spent nearly every spare moment together. From shopping at the flea market to oohing and aahing at the ornamental trunk attachments, they had been inseparable. Yuuri had never felt like this before. His entire life, he’d felt placid, still, like a pond before the rain, a glassy mirror with no substance. But these past few days with Viktor had sparked something in him, something that made him want to laugh louder, smile wider, run and jump and play. He wanted to go to the places Viktor described, the steep hills and winding roads of Pittsburgh, the bustling streets of New York City, even the cold stillness of a church cathedral in Russia. It was funny how he’d never considered leaving Florida. But with Viktor, he was always home. Wherever and whatever they went and did, he somehow always felt safe.

He wanted to tell Viktor. He wanted to beg him, _Never leave me, stay with me,_ and, _take me with you._ But something stopped him. Viktor treated him like he was delicate, fragile. Something to be treasured and taken care of. And he had been. How could he leave, as weak as he was? He needed to prove himself, somehow. He needed to overcome his fears. He needed to ride a motorcycle. And so he and Viktor stood by Viktor’s bike, the light gleaming on the smooth silver lines of its frame.

Under the rustling trees, Viktor took his helmet and handed it to Yuuri with an uncertain smile. “Are you sure you want to do this?” Yuuri took the helmet and smiled back, crookedly, answering him for the tenth time, “Yeah. I think it's time.” Viktor nodded and pressed his own helmet onto his head, silver hair tucked underneath in a neatly coiled braid. He saddled the bike and gestured for Yuuri to get behind him. Yuuri tentatively put a leg over the seat, finding the ground on the other side and adjusting himself so that his arms were wound tight around Viktor’s middle. With a gentle reminder to keep his feet up and his arms tight around Viktor, he kicked the bike into motion, carefully and smoothly pulling away from the curb.

Yuuri watched the warm light of the inn move backwards as he attempted to ignore the thrumming of the engine. The smooth and slow rush of air pushed past his exposed arms and he tightened his grip, a sudden thrill of fear rushing through him, the ghost of dry grass on scraped arms, the smell of burning rubber and blood, the bone-heavy jolt that had gone through him as he fell. Yuuri closed his eyes and focused on the warmth at his front, warmer than Minako had been that night, warmer than anything he’d ever felt. He let himself slip away, focused on feeling the gentle glide, the whoosh of cars past them, the red and orange glowing under his eyelids when they gently stopped at a light. _It’s ok. Viktor’s here._

When he opened his eyes again, he was greeted with the sight of the dark open road ahead of them, the trees around him stretching over his head and forming a tunnel of rustling and cooing, night-time chatter. To his right, through the trees, he saw the silver tide push away from the ocean, the roar of it muffled by the roar of the wind and the leaves above. Viktor’s hair gleamed like the tide and Yuuri found he didn’t even feel scared anymore. He was ok. He was better than ok. He felt… free. Free like he hadn’t been in so, so long. And it was all thanks to Viktor. He felt a surge of warm tingling affection and gratitude in his chest, and it burst out of his mouth in a breathy giggle, and then a chuckle, and then he was laughing into the wind thoughtlessly. Viktor laughed back and Yuuri _knew_ everything was going to be alright.

* * *

“Viktor, you need to come back now. It’s Yakov, he’s… He got hurt, a-and, I need you here now, please!” Viktor nearly dropped his phone, but instead dropped his helmet, the dull thunk of it against the dresser barely registering. _Yakov…_ The feeling of warmth at his back and wind in his face was a distant memory, replaced with thoughts of _God, Yakov, please be alright._

“I’ll be there soon. Hold on, Yura.” He hung up, grabbed his helmet and walked out, zombie-like, from his room. He passed the open door to the kitchen and ignored the bubbly sound of Mrs. Katsuki’s voice on the phone, trying to avoid looking at her. As he opened the front door, he didn’t turn back, afraid to think of Yuuri, of the sweet boy sleeping peacefully in bed, dark hair tousled by their ride and smooth skin caressed by moonlight, unaware of him leaving. Instead, he headed for his bike and shot off, leaving his luggage, his heart and his boy behind in Daytona.

* * *

It had been three days since that silver-haired bastard had ridden off without a trace, without even a phone call, leaving his things in his room and taking only his bike. In those three days, Mari hadn’t seen her brother smile, not even once. When he’d told her he would be riding out with Viktor, she had been afraid. Afraid of seeing her brother’s dreams crushed, crushed like his tiny body had nearly been once, under the frame of Minako’s motorcycle. But that night as she cleaned up, she had found a grinning, tousled Yuuri, hair swept upwards and away, holding hands with Viktor, his own silver hair floating away from his lovestruck face. They had kissed in front of his room and Mari had fake-gagged behind them to hide her own grin. She had never seen her brother more at peace, and distantly she wondered if she had to be afraid about them eloping.

The next day when she’d knocked on Viktor’s door, wondering what had kept the usual early-riser away from the last morning of the festival, she had found his room just as it was the day before. Only, it was missing Viktor. For a second she really did think they’d eloped in the night. Until she’d found Yuuri alone, in his own bedroom. Since then, he had been quiet, distant, staring into the distance as he cleaned and waited slowly emptying tables, unable to concentrate. There had been no note, no number, not a notice given at all. Viktor was just gone, and he had taken Yuuri’s heart with him.

The thought of that stupidly smooth man, laughing over his one-night love somewhere far away made her clench her washcloth angrily, before releasing it with a sigh. Somehow, it didn’t feel like that. It only made her angrier, to imagine how the universe could have somehow conspired to keep her little brother from the man that had given him his happiness back. Still, there was nothing she could do but clean, so she did, picking up Yuuri’s slack (for once) and trying her best to keep him busy as the bikers trickled out of their town.

That night, he had entered her room and asked for her keys. Mari had raised an eyebrow, alarmed but unsurprised. She felt a bit anxious, letting her little brother out without his own license, so she asked to see him drive, and he did surprisingly well, climbing onto her cycle with a focused determination and driving like it was in his blood. Clearly, he had been practicing. Mom would kill her for it later, but she had let him leave. Now, she could only wait until he found the one he loved. It was about time he had left, anyway. People said Mari was the restless one, but the truth was Yuuri had outgrown Daytona the day he was born.

* * *

Viktor stood on his hill again, watching the silent snow and the city. By the time he’d arrived Yakov had been out of surgery and grumpy as ever. Viktor had hugged him so hard Yakov had complained that he’d cracked his ribs again. Still, he knew the old man had missed him. Yura had cried, wrapping his arms around both of them, and Viktor couldn’t find it in his heart to make fun of him. He had been scared too. If he had lost Yakov, what would he do? How would he take care of Yura? How would he take care of _Yuuri?_ At the thought of Yuuri, he’d broken down, sobbing to Yakov about the wonderful boy he’d met. He’d expected him to be angry, maybe even resentful, but he had just nodded gravely, put a hand on his back and told him it was alright.

Maybe it was alright. Maybe he could go back and Yuuri would still be there, bathed in silver moonlight, his hair dark and tousled like the sea, skin glowing in the yellow streetlights, laughing and smiling like a creature of night and light and ocean, a dream come alive. Maybe he’d open his arms and ask him to stay forever, to never leave his side. Or maybe Viktor was a naive fool, for ever thinking he could have him, a boy so brave, so sweet, so other-worldly. Maybe Viktor really should just get a stable job, buy a big house with a small yard and leave the silver-gold-black of Daytona and his summer-drunk dreams behind. Maybe he should forget that wonderful boy, settle down and be responsible for once. There was no way the universe would let him have his boy _and_ his family. He stood there, torn between two worlds, the twinkling lights of Pittsburgh and the churning ocean of Daytona, unable to choose where next to step.

As the wind rustled his hair and the leaves above, a sudden itching feeling came over him, and he turned once more. Rounding the corner was a bright red motorcycle. It rode smoothly past him, and for a second everything flickered gold and silver, the snow-laden trees like gleaming leaves, the icy hills lit up silver like the ocean tide at night and he _knew_.

When Yuuri took off the helmet, he had dropped it immediately and opened his arms, and Viktor had known, finally, that this was home.

**Author's Note:**

> This was all inspired by a trip to Daytona during the actual Daytona Beach Bike Week! The sweltering heat and burly motorcycle men for some reason lit an inspiration? I'm so honoured to have been able to write for this zine and I'm so excited for whatever is to come next! Zine sales have already ended, but if you wish to donate to The Trevor Project (an organization dedicated to crisis-prevention for LGBTQA+ youth), you can donate here: https://give.thetrevorproject.org/give/63307/#!/donation/checkout
> 
> And as always, you can find me at kingfishling.tumblr.com , or kingfishling on fanfiction.net


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